


Different Roads Traveled

by QuillAndInkWrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Autistic Caleb Widogast, Caleb Fjord and Jester are all trans it just hasn't come up, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Gen, I'm going to make that tag a canon AO3 tag through sheer willpower, Implied Fjord/Caleb, Implied Molly/Caleb, Jester/Yasha if you squint, Mighty Nein as Family, Minor Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Mollymauk Tealeaf Lives, Nonverbal Caleb Widogast, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Caleb Widogast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillAndInkWrites/pseuds/QuillAndInkWrites
Summary: Then Jester’s voice saying behind him, shakily and weak, “Molly?”“Jester?”Caleb can’t breathe.He knows that voice.He knows that voice.ORWhen the Mighty Nein go undercover to a Ball in Whitestone they expect to learn more about Lord and Lady de Rolo -- including their ties, or lack of, to Trent Ickithon.They don't expect to see Vilya orMollymaukthere.(Author previously KTallent)
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Mollymauk Tealeaf, Jester Lavorre & Mollymauk Tealeaf, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Vilya | Viridian & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 102
Kudos: 316





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... episode 111 prompted me to dig this out of my WIPs. I haven't touched this in around 3 weeks and this draft was about to expire on AO3. I also try not to post unfinished works, even when I've broken them up into chapters. But, again... episode 111.
> 
> So I hope you all enjoy the two chapters that are complete so far :) I have no idea when chapter 3 will be completed, or how long this will be in total, but I do love this idea and want to keep working on it (even though it's definitely canon non-compliant now).
> 
> Anyways. I love you all very much and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Long May He Reign, my friends <3

There is a ball in Whitestone.

It is, at least in Tal’Dorei, not an uncommon occurrence. In Whitestone, the Lord and Lady are of the people. They are friendly, kind, and generous.

The Mighty Nein need to know that they can be trusted.

They need to know, specifically, that the residuum Trent Ickithon owns didn’t knowingly come from Lord Percival’s hand.

They need to know. So they go.

***

It’s barely an hour into the ball. Caleb lost sight of the rest of the Mighty Nein, only catching glimpses here or there. Beau’s braided undercut, showing off her glimmering tattoo. Jester’s blue dress, showing off her own. Caduceus or Yasha’s hair over the crowd.

Caleb is content to be alone, faking the atmosphere naturally exuded by the true guest around him.

He stays like that for a while, people watching and listening in to the conversations around him. 

Then Jester’s voice saying behind him, shakily and weak, “Molly?”

“Jester?”

Caleb can’t breathe.

He knows that voice.

_He knows that voice._

Distantly, he hears Jester let out a sob before someone else lets out a wheeze of quickly escaping air. Jester probably threw herself into their arms.

He can’t turn around.

He knows, realistically, that he’ll need to. That he should. But.

But.

That’s Mollymauk. Maybe. Perhaps. Jester seems to think so. Jester definitely thinks so.

He doesn’t want to prove her wrong. All the gods above, he could never want anything less than that.

So he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t call out to Jester or-- or Mollymauk.

He wants to turn around and have proof but--

“Are you here alone?” he ( _MollymaukMollymaukMollymauk_ ) asks Jester. “You’re a long way from Wildemount.”

“Of course not,” Jester says. Her voice is thick with tears. “We’re all here. Beau, Yasha, Caleb, Fjord, Veth, Caduceus…”

“Who?”

“Oh. Uh, Nott is actually a Halfling. Her name is Veth. Caduceus is wonderful. He’s a cleric. He’s tall and furry and gives wonderful hugs.” Jester sniffles. “I’m sorry, but I just-- I never thought I would see you again!” she cries, still quiet and careful, before her voice is muffled and she apologizes again over Mollymauk’s ( _please let it be true_ ) equally quiet assurances.

Jester sniffles a few more times and Caleb can feel his own eyes burning. He isn’t faking a conversation or quiet people-watching anymore. He’s just standing there in his formalwear, expression barely kept from crumpled and pained, eyes wet. Distantly he wonders how long it will take before someone notices him and asks if he’s alright.

“You’re far from home too, Molly.” Jester.

“Of a sort.” Maybe-Mollymauk. “My home has been on this side of the ocean for a little bit, now. I’ve befriended the de Rolos, believe it or not.”

Jester gasps and a small weight lifts from Caleb’s heart to hear her less heart-breakingly sad. “You have to introduce me!” she says, and Mollymauk laughs.

“Absolutely, my dear,” he says. “Should we find the others first?”

Caleb coughs on an inhale.

“Maybe one at a time. We all thought you were dead. You _were_ dead. It’s barely been a year, Molly, even if most of us didn’t know you that long. It’s been really hard, you know? We all missed you so much.”

“I really am sorry,” he says. “It’s a long story and not one I want to tell here. But you deserve an explanation. All of you do.”

“Okay,” Jester says.

“Okay.”

“Let’s go find our friends. Take my arm, Molly, I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

 _None of us want to lose him_ , Caleb thinks. He grabs a champagne flute from a passing tray, taking a sip just to keep his rapidly dwindling appearances up.

He sees Jester and her beautiful blue dress approaching in his periphery and almost chokes on an inhale _again_. She’s holding the arm of a purple Tiefling with a swathe of green and blue up his neck and cheek.

“Astor!” Jester calls. A clear reminder of their very risky attendance at the ball. Caleb plasters on a politely sized smile and sets his champagne back on a passing tray to free up his hands.

“Mira,” he signs to Jester with a nod. He can feel the blood slowly draining from his face as he finally looks at--

It has to be him. It couldn’t be anyone else.

Mollymauk smiles amicably, obviously quickly catching on (or perhaps Jester told them) to their situation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Astor…?”

“Astor Ermen,” Caleb fingerspells.

Mollymauk nods. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mister Ermen. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, I’m a personal friend of--”

Mollymauk is interrupted by a very pointedly cleared throat to Caleb’s right. There’s Veth, yellow dress dazzling. She crosses her arms. Mollymauk squints at her. Desperately trying to place her, Caleb assumes.

“Are you gonna introduce me, Mira, or what?” she asks. Mollymauk must place the scratchy voice because he blinks and a huge grin spreads across their face. He holds out his hand. 

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, ma’am. And you are?”

Veth blinks once, mirroring Mollymauk’s action, face full of pain and disbelief between one second and the next.

Well, at least Caleb isn’t the only one.

“Lucy Smythe," Veth says. A nod to her son, of course, and to her parents' surname. Even undercover they can't help but be a caring, sentimental group. Caleb is glad they are.

"A pleasure," Molly says, before his eyes flicker between the three old faces (two, really,) in front of them. Jester quickly cuts into the brief silence.

"Mollymauk!" She says. "You said you're a friend of the de Rolos, right? Do you think you could introduce us? We'd really like to meet Lord Percival and Lady Vex'ahlia."

Their entire reason for faking their way into such a high end party, of course. They need to know with their own eyes and ears that Lord Percival of Whitestone isn't knowingly supporting Trent Ikithon's endeavors. They need to know how far up and how spread out the supply chain (and support) reaches before they can do anything about either one.

Mollymauk's appearance may have been perfect timing.

Molly looks oddly at the three of them for a few seconds. "It should be no problem at all," he assures them, furrowing his brow. Jester leans to murmur something into his pointed ear and his expression quickly smooths out. "I can _absolutely_ introduce you," he says then. Jester must have said something to them about their need for information. "Should we gather the rest of your friends?"

Caleb exchanges a look with Veth and Jester. While having the party all together is a good idea, they need to keep a low profile at all costs.

"Just Expositor Lionett?" Caleb signs to the other two. Veth nods and Jester signs yes.

"I can go find her," Jester says with a smile. "It shouldn't take too long." And then she's floating off into the sea of rich fabrics, her own dress swaying to the same invisible current.

Mollymauk sighs, of all things. He walks the few steps over to Veth and Caleb, creating a tight triangle.

"Percy and Vex -- Lord and Lady de Rolo -- were, and are, members of Vox Machina," he says slowly, volume instantly at a faint murmur. Caleb and Veth nod, and he cautiously continues on. 

"They may recognize you. Not by name, probably, but by... demeanor? What I'm saying is that they probably know adventurers when they see them. Jester didn't tell me everything about tonight and why you're all here but I know enough to ask for you to please, _please_ stay safe and very cautious. I'll try to help but there's only so much suspicion I can ease before you need to reveal yourselves." Mollymauk laughs quietly. "Actually, it might be just like how suspicious _our_ lot was when _we_ first met."

Veth nods. "We've got this, Molly. I promise." She pauses for a second, squinting at Mollymauk, arms still crossed. Finally she sighs, uncrossing her arms and swinging them at her sides. "I missed you," she says. "We all missed. I'm glad you're alright."

Mollymauk smiles a bittersweet smile. "Me too, Veth."

And that alone seems to be a little jab to Caleb's lungs reminding him that _this is Mollymauk_. He pushes it aside. He'll listen to the gut wrenching hope and happiness and grief later, when they're done and back at the Inn they're staying in. Later.

Someone sucks in a sharp breath behind Mollymauk.

Mollymauk turns around and there's Beau, Jester's arm hooked in hers, looking at Molly like she's seen a dead-- _no, not the best metaphor for the situation_.

"Expositor Lionett?" Mollymauk says. "Mollymauk Tealeaf. I'm your friendly guide to getting to say hello to the hosts of this lovely ball.”

“Nice to meet you, Mx. Tealeaf,” Beau says, slow and awkward. She looks like she’s taking in all the minute changes. Another piercing on Mollymauk’s left ear is a distinct change. The added gold chain on his right horn, studded with amethysts, although that might just be for the ball. Proof of a life between _then_ and _now_.

Mollymauk claps his hands together. ‘Well! Now that you’re all here, why don’t I introduce you to our lovely hosts? Come along, everyone, follow me.” He begins walking with purpose around the outskirts of the large crowd, the others rushing to follow. Once they see the base of the large set of stairs it’s clear where they’re headed. There’s a white haired gentleman talking to a red haired half-Elf with a beautiful green dress, a tan, black haired half elf with feathers at her ear, and another half-Elf, sun tanned, with sun bleached hair and a leg of--

“ _Fuck_ ,” Beau hisses.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Veth says.

But they’re already there and Mollymauk is already getting the attention of one Lord Percival de Rolo.

 _Schiesse_.

“Percy!” he says. “I found some old friends of mine that I wanted to introduce.”

Percival nods and holds up a finger, wrapping up his conversation with Lady de Rolo, the redheaded half-Elf, and _Vilya_ . “I will never take Trinket to a lake again. There’s also another story I can tell in a bit about the _bows_.” Then he turns to face Molly and the group, and with him the three half-Elves do too.

Vilya does a double take.

The four of them very carefully do _not_ look at her.

Mollymauk, remaining happily oblivious of his very nervous friends, grins and says to Percival, “Percy, meet Mira Dusolle, Astor Ermen, Lucy Smythe, and Expositor Lionett.” He turns to the four of them, who are all focusing _very_ avidly on the two of them and _not_ the woman in front of them who could completely incinerate their cover less than an hour into the ball.

Percy inclines his head to the four of them, an odd look on his face. “It’s wonderful to meet some of Mollymauk’s old friends. My name is Percival… de Rolo.” The two half-Elves give him a _look_ at the pause and he catches it, grinning. “This is my wife, Lady Vex’ahlia de Rolo of Vox Machina.”

The dark haired half-Elf smiles at them.

“Keyleth of the Air Ashari, and Vox Machina, Voice of the Tempest...”

The red haired half-Elf in the dazzling green dress waves to them.

“And this is Keyleth’s mother, Vilya.”

Beau lets out a quiet wheeze. Jester’s eyes widen. Caleb has to do everything in his power to keep his jaw from going slack.

Vilya says, “A pleasure to meet you all. May I have a moment to speak with Mister… Ermen, was it?”

Caleb nods slowly. Signs yes. He turns to Jester, signs the word _translate_ at her, eyebrows raised in a question.

“Of course!” she says to him, and he smiles as she turns to Vilya. “Astor is mute, so unless you know Common Sign I’ll need to translate for him.”

“I know Common Sign,” Vilya assures them. She looks at Jester with that same odd expression from before. They’d gone through this dance already, back on Rumblecusp. They know she knows Common Sign, and she knows that they know.

Caleb wonders how much longer she will go along with them when she obviously knows that something is not as it seems.

Vilya steps towards him and signs, “Let’s walk.”

They walk.

“May I speak or do you need silence?”

“Noise is fine right now.”

Good.” Vilya can’t round on Caleb and point a finger at him, not here, but she clearly considers it. Instead she murmurs, urgently, ‘What are you doing here, Caleb?”

“Gathering information.”

Vilya frowns. “Are all eight of you here?”

“We are.”

Vilya suddenly stops walking. “Who are you gathering information on, Caleb?”

Caleb raises his hands to sign again but hesitates. Vilya’s look grows worried.

“Caleb, I don’t want any of you to get hurt. You’re good people, the Mighty Nein, if a little rough around the edges. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Please let me help you.”

Caleb draws his hands over his face with a silent sigh. “Percival de Rolo,” he signs.

Vilya connects the dots. “Of course,” she says, realisation dawning on her face before it ducks behind a mask and they start walking again. “Of course you would only meet the host of a ball, while hiding your identity, if you absolutely needed to.”

Caleb nods and a wry grin seeps through the corners of his mouth. “Mollymauk has perfect timing.”

“Oh, you really do know him?”

“We… yes.”

“Have you known him long? I thought he had been here in Tal’Dorei for a few months.”

“Not long, no. But we were his friends.” Caleb swallows the lump in his throat and thinks, again, _not yet_.

Vilya nods as they loop back around in the direction of the staircase. Twenty feet from the base of the staircase she says, in a gentle, murmur, full of care, “You should tell them the truth.”

Caleb stops and turns to look at her. She stops too, and for a second neither of them does anything.

(It hadn’t occurred to him until now that he was taller than her. He hadn’t been when they had met, but he almost never stood to his full height. It felt… it felt _good_.)

Caleb raises his eyebrows just a little, makes them say _oh?_.

“They're good people. Just like you and your group. They have rough edges too, I’ve seen them. Theirs are a little sanded down or chipped away or hidden, but they exist just the same. I think they could see themselves in you. I think they would believe you. I think they would want to _help_ you.”

“Okay.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I’ll need to-- to tell my friends, make sure it’ll be something we all do together, but. Yes. Just give me a second to cast a spell--” Vilya gives him a worried look. “Just a modified message spell,” he signs.

Vilya nods and gives him a smile full of warmth and ease.

Caleb tentatively smiles back as he reaches into a hidden pocket on the underside of his fancy coat, pulling out a copper wire and wrapping it around his palm. He signs _quiet_ , then _speak_ , and thinks to Jester, _We should tell them._

***

Caleb and Vilya return to the base of the staircase (after a brief mental conversation between Caleb and the rest of the Mighty Nein) to a vibrating Jester asking questions of Keyleth that are just on the right side of appropriate for the formal setting. Caleb can’t stop the smile at her unrelenting cheer, even when in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation.

But, while Keyleth must have been distracted by Jester and her wonderful, eccentric personality, Lord and Lady de Rolo have almost-hidden troubled looks and Caleb knows that Vilya was right. Telling them the truth will be their best bet.

“Astor!” Veth says as she catches sight of Caleb and Vilya approaching the group. The rest of the group turns, a mix of expressions ranging from amused and excited ( _Keyleth_ ) to worried ( _Veth and Mollymauk_ ) to suspicious ( _the de Rolos_ ) appearing on their faces.

“Everything alright, Vilya?” Lord de Rolo asks, the subtle question underneath it not lost on Caleb, despite how it could easily have gone straight over his head. Lord de Rolo means to say _what was that about_ and _do you know this man_.

“I’m alright, Percy,” Vilya says. Both hosts and their friend’s shoulders ease of some quiet, hidden tension. Caleb knows that it isn’t due to his appearance or demeanor, but Vilya’s sudden conversation with him, Mollymauk’s claim of past friendship, and, if they’re incredibly detail oriented, the fact that none of them are on any guest lists.

Caleb signs _Jester_ and _translate_ and _you_ with raised eyebrows to Jester and she nods--

( _“Eyebrows raised means yes or no, Jester. Like that, ja. You’re learning very well.”_ )

\--before Lady de Rolo says, “We all know Common Sign, darling. There’s no need for Miss Dusole to translate unless you want her to.”

Caleb nods, surprised but pleased, signs _okay_ , and Jester lowers her royal blue-gloved hands from their ready position.

Caleb looks to Beau for help, who instantly raises her hands in a _wait_ gesture,fingers splayed and palms at chest level. “I’ve done enough diplomacy lately, man. You owe me for that last time.”

Caleb extends his arm in her direction, flashing her his middle finger and an exasperated expression. She grins a wide grin at him, thin, narrow eyes filling with enough mirth for Caleb to see it and recognise it.

Vilya is untroubled by this, only letting the corner of her mouth quirk up, but the de Rolos and Keyleth share a look of amusement and genuine surprise that, oddly enough, is what truly makes it click for Caleb that these high ranking figures were once where they are now. It eases his worry, some, to know that.

“I do have something… a few things to say,” Caleb signs, as soon as their attention is back to him, “and I would ask that, one, you aren’t too quick to make any assumptions, and two, that, perhaps, we go to a more private place.”

The three’s eyes are wide, now. Caleb casually scans the faces and clothes of the nearest guests once they don’t respond immediately, glad that he isn’t simply facing the sparsely populated staircase.

 _There_. Within a split second he can see Caduceus’ pink hair above the crowd, mingling to Lord de Rolo’s right, just within earshot. He’s talking to… Fjord, from the clothes, Caleb can’t see his face. Good. That means they’re both privy to the conversation and able to step in at a moment’s notice like they had all agreed upon during their painfully short and sparse mental conversation. He is just starting to scan for Yasha when Percy speaks.

“I wasn’t expecting that, Mister Ermen. Molly, you’re _sure_ you knew these people?”

“God, I wish I didn’t,” Molly says from next to Jester and The Voice, Keyleth. “I’m kidding. Yes, I definitely knew them.”

“I suggested he say this, Percy, if that makes any of you feel better.” Vilya says. Keyleth looks instantly relieved, expression opening up from the wary thing it had just been.

Lady Vex’ahlia whispers something to her husband for a second before she smiles, still wary around the edges but generally agreeable. “We can absolutely do both of those things, Mister Erman. We have a few rooms upstairs that can fit…” she pauses as she counts them up under her breath, “eight people easily enough.”

Jester says, “Um…” as Caleb holds up a finger.

Vilya groans. “You’re all here, aren’t you.” It isn’t a question.

Lady Vex’ahlia whips around to gape at Vilya. “You _know_ them? And there’s _more_ of them?”

Vilya somehow manages to perfectly combine a grimace and a genuine smile into one. “There’s a few reasons they want an audience alone, it seems.”

Lord Percival takes his glasses off for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “It seems so,” he agrees, still pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Alright, we meet whoever else is with you out here and _then_ we go somewhere private.”

Caleb sees Jester and Beau hold their breaths as Caduceus looks at him over someone’s head. Caleb gives him a small nod and he returns it before saying something, presumably to Fjord. Then Fjord turns around and approaches the group, Caduceus right on his heels.

“Only three more of us,” Caleb signs to Lady Vex’ahlia, seeing as her husband is still sighing, muttering something under his breath. Mollymauk starts to edge into the background. Caleb doesn't mention it.

“Here she comes!” Jester exclaims, and seven other pairs of eyes immediately search for ‘her.’ Vilya spots Yasha before even Beau, and smiles immediately. The others follow her gaze and stare as Yasha approaches in a gray dress, muscles on display, beautiful and unmistakably powerful.

( _Jester had gushed about it earlier in the day, fake swooning onto Fjord, who had laughed and fumbled to catch her._ )

“Hi,” Yasha says, soft as ever, a small smile on her face.

And then Caleb sees pink hair to his left and turns to see that Caduceus and Fjord have stopped next to Vilya and Lord Percival, silent and mostly still. Fjord gives Caleb a smile when he sees Caleb looking at them. Caleb smiles back.

Lord Percival turns to see who Yasha looks at and chokes on an inhale when he has to look up at least a good foot to Caduceus’ face.

“Hi there,” Caduceus says. Lord Percival blinks at him.

“Are you a Firbolg?” Keyleth asks, eyes wide.

“I am indeed a Firbolg.”

Fjord raises a hand and ducks his head a little from Caduceus’ other side, a somewhat awkward smile on his face. “Look like I’m the last one.”

Lady Vex’ahlia pats Lord Percival’s shoulder and smiles at them all. 

“Follow me,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are, as always, appreciated but never required <3


	2. Chapter 2

The sitting room they're led to is generously furnished, warm, and full of people heading towards the assorted chairs and couches in something of a polite scramble.  If any of the three of their hosts are nervous about being hilariously outnumbered in a private room, it doesn’t show. They’re the picture of calm and collected. Cakeb might be envious.

“Alright,” Lord Percival says, flipping the tails of his intricately embellished coat out of the way as he sits in an armchair by the crackling fire, crossing one leg over the other. “How about you tell us what all this is about now, hm?”

Caleb looks up from where he had been caught off guard by the texture of the chair he sat in, rubbing his fingers against the rich red velvet. “Hmm?” he almost says, the sound only audible to his own mind, stopping far back in his throat. He takes his fingers off of the chair, reluctantly, and he thinks he sees all four of them -- Vilya, the Voice, and both of the de Rolos -- smile softly at him. It catches him off guard. He’s only used to the Mighty Nein ( _ his family, _ his mind whispers) smiling softly at him for things like that. It is a welcome surprise.

Jester’s royal blue glove waves up and down a little in his periphery and he shakes his head and blinks a few times rapidly, pulling his hands up from where they had been drifting back down to the chair. He must have gotten lost in his head for a few seconds. Jester must have been able to tell because she signs what Lord Percival had said again, smiling patiently. He nods a little and gives her a small smile in return.

“First,” Caleb signs, noticing the looks of… thought? Realization? Recognition? On all three of their hosts faces, “We need to reintroduce ourselves.”

Lord Percival, Lady Vex’ahlia, and The Voice’s expressions immediately become alarmed.

“You’re here under  _ aliases? _ ” Lord Percival says.

“Sorry,” Jester says from the couch, smiling awkwardly.

“Yes,” Caleb signs, and goes to sign more before pausing and looking at Fjord. He feels so very drained already. “Can you…?”

“Absolutely,” Fjord says softly, smiling, and reaches over from the end of the second couch to squeeze his hand oh so gently before letting Caleb’s fingers eagerly find the velvet of the chair again.

“Hello,” Fjord says to their new -- acquaintances? “My name’s Fjord. No surname,” he says, wryly, and they all hear Veth mutter  _ that’s tough _ not-so under her breath. The other side of the room looks entirely confused when Jester giggles, Beauregard snorts, and Yasha huffs a quiet laugh.

Mollymauk, somehow unnoticed from the corner of the room behind the Mighty Nein, lets out a bark of laughter (mindful of Caleb, even after all this time).

Fjord and Yasha whip around and jump half out of their seats as the others turn to look at him.

Fjord’s eyes go wide and his face goes slack. Yasha inhales a sharp breath. Caleb can see tears already forming in her eyes.

“ _ Molly? _ ”  Yasha stands to her full height and stumbles between two of the couches as she approaches Mollymauk. She seems to remember herself halfway to him, halting and just looking at him, tears already threatening to spill over.

For a second the room is silent and still, all eyes on Mollymauk.

Mollymauk tilts forward into her arms and Yasha falls to her knees in order to not tower over him, gasping. The tears fall in a rush and she closes her eyes tight as Mollymauk holds her.

Caleb feels his own tears start to well up as he turns back around to face forward. He’ll have a moment later, he tells himself, for the thousandth time that night. This is Yasha’s moment, and she should have it on her own terms.

Vilya’s eyes are sad when he turns around. Everyone’s eyes are sad. Jester is blinking back tears, and she and Caleb share a watery smile between the two of them.

The Lord, Lady, and the Voice’s eyes are both sad and confused.

Lady Vex’ahlia sighs and the Voice remarks, “This keeps getting more and more complicated, huh?”

Every member of the Mighty Nein, sans Yasha and Mollymauk, winces as one.

“Oh gods,” Lord Percival says from his hands.

“Let’s get introductions and re-introductions out of the way first,” Lady Vex’ahlia suggests. Lord Percival nods from behind his hands.

“Sounds wonderful,” Fjord says. “As I said before, my name is Fjord. This is Caleb Widogast.”

Caleb doesn’t wave, busy pulling his feet up onto the chair, but he does look up at the floor a little closer to the Lord and Lady for a second. The Lord and Lady smile in his periphery.

“This is Caduceus Clay.”

“Hi there,” Caduceus says, raising a furry hand in greeting. The Voice raises a hand in return, smiling.

“Lucy Smythe is Veth Brenatto,” Fjord continues, and Veth waves in greeting from the other side of Caduceus on that couch.

“My name is Jester Lavorre,” Jester says, and Fjord grins and lets her take over. “You can call me Jester. The tall strong lady hugging Molly is Yasha.”

There’s a pause as the de Rolos and the Voice take this in, before they all slowly look at Beauregard.

“Oh,” Beauregard says, and grins. “I’m an Expositor for real. Expositor Beauregard Lionett of the Cobalt Soul. Call me Beau.” She pauses for a second before adding, with conviction and a dead serious look, “ _ please _ .”

Lady Vex’ahlia smiles. “We introduced ourselves before, but I suppose we should do so again.” She gestures to Vilya. “This is--” She pauses when Vilya holds up a hand.

“They know me,” Vilya says.

The de Rolos and the Voice share a confused look.

The Voice says, “But you’ve been missing for twenty years?”

Fjord coughs politely into his fist. “Until we found her,” he says very quickly.

A second of silence as they process.

The room explodes into  chaos.

“ _ What? _ ” The Voice cries, rapidly looking back and forth between the Mighty Nein and her mother, her face lighting up even as her expression is one of shock.

“You  _ what? _ ” Lord Percival says, incredulous and impressed, before understanding dawns on his face and he looks even  _ more _ impressed.

“Oh my gods. We need to get the others up here  _ right now _ ,” Lady Vex’ahlia says, eyes wide, voice faint, hand drifting up to her pearl earring.

Both Lord Percival and The Voice look to each other for a second and then nod (a bit frantically) to Lady Vex’ahlia, who nods once and presses her fingertips against her pearl earring.

_ Magical _ pearl earring, Caleb realizes.

“Everyone come up to the second sitting room as soon as you can,” Lady Vex'ahlia says in a no-nonsense voice. “Be discreet, of course. But…” her voice wavers on the next words, betraying an emotion Caleb can't identify. “We found the Mighty Nein.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have for now, my apologies. I couldn't just leave this in my WIPs, though, not with Episode 111 this evening.
> 
> I love you all so much! <3 And...
> 
> Is it Thursday yet?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't a very long wait at all, was it? And, seeing as this fic just went from 2 chapters and 4.7k to 3 chapters and 6.8k _in one day jesus christ_ I think the wait is more than alright. And there is more to go yet.
> 
> Also... oh my god y'all, thank you SO MUCH for 100 kudos, so many incredible comments, and over 50 subs. This is breaking so many records of mine and I'm absolutely treasuring every second of it.
> 
> Enjoy, my loves <3
> 
> (Trigger warning for Caleb-typical body horror and mentions of Trent. If anyone wants/needs a chapter summary I will do my best to provide. Take care of yourselves, my dears.)

The Mighty Nein freeze.

Jester is the first one to react, saying, “Vilya told you about us?”

“Of course she did,” The Voice says, face still one of disbelief. “If your mother suddenly reappeared after being assumed dead for over twenty years you would want to know what happened to her, wouldn't you?”

Mollymauk speaks up from behind Fjord. He and Yasha must have drifted back to the group at some point. “You were the ones who found Vilya?” He asks.

“Well, yes,” Fjord says, twisting in his seat to look at Molly. Molly steps closer to Caleb’s chair so he doesn’t have to turn so much and Fjord smiles a quick thanks. “It was an accident. We didn’t know she—” A look of realisation dawns on Fjord’s face. “We didn’t know that we accidentally found the long lost mother of a member of _Vox Machina_ ,” he says a little faintly.

“They were all very impressed when I told them,” Vilya says, smiling.

Every expression on the Mighty Nein’s side of the room (save for Mollymauk) goes blank.

“Uhhh,” Beauregard says slowly, “you, Vox Machina, are impressed by people who accidentally helped their friend’s fake ginger Fey god make a cult?”

Lord Percival looks at Beauregard. “Sorry, what?”

Beauregard pauses. “Forget I said anything.”

Lady Vex’ahlia looks at the door. “They should be arriving any second now,” she muses.

“Who?” Yasha asks. She has yet to step away from Mollymauk, and Caleb is growing more and more quietly jealous as the minutes pass.

“Our friends,” Lady Vex’ahlia says.

“Like, Vox Machina?” Jester, now.

Lady Vex’ahlia nods. “I hope that’s not overwhelming. We all care very much about Keyleth and feel… very grateful towards all of you. I thought — rightly, by their responses just now — that they would want to express that gratitude in person.”

“I’m sorry,” Fjord says after a second, raising one hand in a small gesture. “Not that we aren’t— _incredibly_ excited about meeting your friends, but we do still have an objective of our own here.”

Lady Vex’ahlia says, “My apologies, it slipped my mind. I’ll hold them off, then,” and raises her hand to her pearl earring once more, murmuring to the recipients of the magical message. Caleb wonders if their earrings are pearls as well, or if they are earrings at all.

In a moment Lady Vex’ahlia finishes and gestures for Fjord to speak.

“Lord de Rolo,” Fjord says. Caleb can hear the charm in his tone, the tone he uses for important people and people he respects. People he doesn’t truly respect, also. Caleb thinks it’s the first two. “Lord de Rolo, are you familiar with a man named Trent Ickithon?”

Lord de Rolo thinks for a second, eyes shifting to look in the middle distance to his left. “The name seems familiar,” he ventures.

“He’s a member of the Cerberus Assembly in the Dwendalian Empire,” Fjord adds.

Lord de Rolo’s face turns to one of recognition and vague puzzlement. “Ah, that’s right.”

“You do know him?” Fjord coaxes.

“I do,” Lord de Rolo says, “but I haven't dealt with him much.” His gaze turns piercing, then. “Is he a friend of yours,” he asks, “or an enemy?”

Straight to the point, Caleb supposes. At least he has the decency to not beat around the bush.

“Might I ask what your dealings with him have been?” Fjord asks, politely — and completely — avoiding his question.

Lord Percival squints at him, leaning forward infinitesimally. “You should know, Mister Fjord, that if two people I already know and trust didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be answering any of this.”

“But they do,” Fjord says.

“They do,” Lord Percival agrees, and leans back in his chair. “I haven’t spoken to him much,, if you must know, only to set up a purchase of residuum years ago.”

Caleb flinches. 

_You must keep it together until your reactions will not change Lord Percival’s responses_ , he thinks to himself as firmly as he can, and rubs the pads of his middle fingers with his thumbs, the smallest stim he thinks he can get away with. It is not an upset or nervous stim of his, but it is better than nothing at all.

Beau sends a quick glance in his direction and he blinks twice as a motionless reply. She blinks back and looks away.

“Well, since you’re trusting us through others, I may as well be direct.”

Percy includes his head, gesturing for Fjord to go on.

“Do you know what Ickithon wanted the residuum for?”

Percy frowns. “Yes, magical tools and focuses for the mages of the Soltryce Academy and the Cerberus Assembly.”

Caleb presses the pads of his thumbs and middle fingers together a little firmer.

Caduceus raises a hand politely and says, “That’s what he told you?”

Lord Percival nods, and Lady Vex’ahlia nods as well. “I was there, too,” she says, “and I can assure you that what my husband says is the truth.”

Caduceus looks at them for a long moment.

Then he nods once.

They’re telling the truth.

And, honestly, Caleb cannot decide if this is worse than if they had lied.

“Thank you for answering our questions,” Fjord says politely, and The Voice of the Tempest makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

“They don’t get to know why you’re asking them?” she asks, at once both genuinely curious and almost incredulous.

Beau says, “Uhhh,” long and drawn out, and if anything it causes their hosts to look more intrigued and suspicious.

Lord Percival asks, “Is he not who he says he is?”

Caleb lets out a pained huff of air through his nose and moved his fingers just enough to sign _no_.

Nein, _he is not who he says he is,_ Caleb thinks. _He is built on lies and pan and suffering. It would have been better if he had known nothing else, but instead he knew different and chose to turn from it._ That _is what makes him an evil man. That he had the choice and he took the dark and cruel path over the kind path._

“He is definitely not who he says he is,” Caduceus says in his rumbling, kind voice, echoing Caleb’s thoughts.

Lord Percival looks— they _all_ look troubled, now.

_Good_ , Caleb thinks, _it is better for them to be troubled than for them to be unknowing in the midst of it._

“How do you know?” Lord Percival asks.

The Mighty Nein pause.

Then they either very carefully _do not look Caleb’s way_ or they make quiet, subtle glances in his direction.

It’s up to him now how they go forward, it seems. Caleb wishes he hadn’t spent all his energy on eye contact and keeping appropriately still (according to the rich people who knew nothing) in the throng of rich people, earlier.

Caleb sighs. _There is only one road forward_ , _it seems. At least it will require less explanation to Mollymauk at a later date._ _His current coat was beginning to rub his skin the wrong way, besides._

Caleb sighs, drags his hands down his face, and takes off his richly embellished coat, setting it behind him against the back of the velvet covered chair. He has his two books flush against his sides over his tunic, as always, and he thinks he sees, in his periphery, Mollymauk look at them in interest or curiosity.

Then Caleb pushes up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing the scars on all sides of his arms, and Mollymauk gasps. He hears Lady de Rolo gasp, too, and both Lord de Rolo and the Voice make pained sounds. Fjord’s face is tight when he looks just past Mollymauk’s middle.

Sleeves secured above his elbows, he looks at Lord de Rolo with a serious gaze and Lord Percival looks both confused and almost afraid. Lady re Rolo looks like she might begin feeling queasy, fighting against herself about believing what Caleb has yet to say.

“This is what Trent Ickithon does with residuum,” Caleb signs, firm and slow. His fingers shake minutely but he holds his hands as steady as he can.

Lord de Rolo looks like he’s going to be sick. 

“Are those—”

He is afraid to say it.

Long ago, Caleb might not have blamed him. He does a little now.

Caleb twists his right arm as if to show his middle finger, but instead splays his fingers, palm facing his face, displaying his crooked scars to the Lord of Whitestone.

_Look_ , the gesture says.

Lord Percival does not look like he wants to.

Caleb shakes his arm a little, thrusting it towards Lord Percival. _Look_ , he signs with his left hand, stabbing two fingers at his forearm. His expression has become hard.

Lord Percival takes in a shuddering breath. Blows it out. Leans forward in his chair with something akin to fear and sickness, eyebrows furrowed.

He looks.

Caleb watches as his face folds in on itself, a thousand emotions, disgust and disbelief and please-let-it-not-be-what-I-think-it-is and deep, deep unease.

“Do you have residuum under those scars,” he asks, voice trembling and sick.

The three women on that side of the room look like they might be sick as well.

_Yes,_ Caleb signs with his left hand like a gavel, and then slowly, steadily ( _the shaking in his fingers has spread to his hands now_ ) lowers his right arm back to his lap.

There is silence.

Lord Percival looks like he may begin to shift through his seat from _anger disgust guilt disbelief horror sadness._

Vilya looks sick. Lady de Rolo looks _furious_. The Voice of the Tempest looks horrified, eyes large and sad and scared.

“Do you know if he still—” Lord de Rolo cuts himself off. Wrings out his hands and silently snaps his fingers a few times.

( _Now Caleb knows at least one reason they had looked at him with recognition. It’s comforting to think of._ )

“I will take any information on Trent Ickithon you are willing to give me,” the Lord of Whitestone (and he has shifted his demeanor into that title now, Caleb can tell) says. “Later, though. I think we’ve all had enough discoveries for tonight. I would like to speak with you all again tomorrow, if you’re up for it, and there are still members of our party excited to meet you all. Perhaps it would be in all of our best interest for the Mighty Nein to lodge here for a few days. No harm will come to any of you, and you’ll have excellent rooms. Does that sound agreeable?”

Caleb nods when Fjord looks to him, and he watches as the rest of the Nein nod in wordless agreement.

“That sounds fantastic,” Fjord says with sincerity and a charming smile.

The Lord of Whitestone nods as well, though he still looks too pale and shaken to give a smile. “We’ll leave you here, then. Molly can take you all to a suite of rooms whenever you’re ready, he knows his way around and can answer any other questions you might have.” He drops some of the formality of tone, then. “I’m sorry for the way tonight has gone, for what it’s worth. We all seem to be tangled up in each other's' business far more than is generally the case. And believe me, Mister Widogast,” — here he looks at Caleb — “Trent Ickithon will not leave my sights anytime soon. He will be dealt with, hopefully in the way that gives him the most pain and you and anyone else he has hurt the most capability for healing. I’m sorry. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Goodnight.”

And the four of them stand up and file out the door through which they came in.

The heavy wooden door shuts with a quiet _thud_.

Caleb breathes in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you all,” Mollymauk says from near his right shoulder.

Caleb stares at his hands as he hears Jester let out a wordless cry, jump up from the couch, and run into Mollymauk’s arms.

_His moment is finally approaching and he does not know what he will do when he is faced with Mollymauk, no aliases or personas or new friends between them._

Beauregard is standing up now, saying _You’re a goddamn asshole, you know that, right?_ And Molly is letting out a quiet laugh and saying _I know, Unpleasant One._

Caleb will wait just a little bit longer.

_Soon it will be your turn._

_Soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and make me feel warm and cozy, but are always optional <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK
> 
> I was cursed with the worst writers block on this fic for literally almost 2 months straight BUT GUESS WHO'S BACK
> 
> ALSO!!! Y'all!!! 200 kudos??? 1,500 hits??? Over 50 bookmarks??? Over 100 subscriptions??? Y'all are so wild and so awesome!!! Ugh my entire heart like. Wow. More than 100 people are about to get an email in their inbox because they like this fic that much. Gosh.
> 
> ANYWAYS ENJOY Y'ALL <3
> 
> (Warning: Brief mentions of Molly-flavor amnesia and death)

Caleb sits in silence and stillness as Mollymauk greets the Mighty Nein for the first time in almost a year. There are exclamations of joy for a few seconds before Jester says, “Caleb, come join us!” in the soft voice she uses to be gentle to his ears.

Caleb looks up to see his friends looking back at him, all standing now, crowding together in the space in the center of the chairs and couches. Crowding together around Mollymauk.

_ Mollymauk. _

Jester smiles and reaches both hands out to him, making gentle grabbing motions. “Come here, Caleb!” she says with a bright expression.

Caleb slowly stands up. Jester takes his hands and gently tugs him towards them all.

Mollymauk lets out a brief, surprised laugh. “I forgot how tall you are,” he says, like he had only been absent for a long while, not dead and gone.

“You were dead,” Caleb signs. He can’t think of anything else to say, that one phrase circling through his mind in twists and turns, over and over and over again

Mollymauk’s eyes turn sad at the corners as the rest of the party shifts in one way or another. Jester’s lip trembles, Beauregard’s hands go into fists at her sides, Fjord shifts his weight from one side to another and looks somewhere between Mollymauk, Caleb, and the beautiful wood floor.

“I was dead,” he agrees.

“What—” Caleb’s fingers stutter one, twice, Caleb’s expression turning to one of pained frustration, and Mollymauk reaches out incredibly slowly. He cups Caleb’s hands in his, gentle enough that Caleb can get out of the grip easily but enough pressure to be comforting.

It pricks at his heart that Mollymauk remembers what helps him, even after all this time. That he cares enough to file that information away, even when he didn’t know if they would ever see each other again.

Caleb takes a deep breath.

Then another.

His hands stop shaking so much.

Mollymauk smiles. “It’ll be alright,” he says, not just to Caleb but to all of them, even if the words are for him.

Caleb nods and pulls his hands back.

And pulls Mollymauk into a tight, warm hug.

Mollymauk stiffens in shock for just a moment and then he’s hugging him right back and Caleb can’t help but sob into his shoulder.

_ Mein Gott, _ he thinks,  _ how I have waited for this. _

“Oh, Caleb,” Mollymauk murmurs, and Caleb’s breath chokes in his throat again, another sob. He buries his face deeper into his shoulder. “It’ll be alright.”

He thinks she hears Jester sniffle, but it could have been any of them.

Beau gently punches Mollymauk’s unburdened shoulder, really just a tap with her fist, and snakes her arms around both of them, saying “C’mere, you two.” Mollymauk laughs a little and Caleb smiles a watery smile, vision still filled with Molly’s shirt, and then the rest of them are piling into the hug, filling the space with warmth and safety and Caleb’s new, recent definition of home.

It’s wonderful.

Somehow they all end up on the rug, still wrapped in each other's arms, teary and smiling and digging up the pain again to finally heal it. It hurts,  _ ja, _ but it’s a sweet pain because they know that it can finally stop.

“I’ve missed you all so much,” Mollymauk says, eventually. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“You didn’t?” Jester says, voice fragile and wet.

“I didn’t,” Mollymauk says, turning to look at her. Caleb shifts so that he’s more pressed up against Mollymauk’s side, less sitting entirely on his lap facing him. Yasha sits behind Mollymauk, letting him lean back against her in an easy, familiar manner. Everyone is spread around Mollymauk, their dear returned friend, tangling legs and arms and sharing space.

“I woke up alone,” Mollymauk says. Caleb presses against him a little more, and he thinks Yasha and Jester do too. “I didn’t know who I was, where I was,  _ when _ I was. I had little fragments of memory, more than the last time, but not enough to figure out what to do next. Just enough to know who I was and that I had friends.

“I wandered for a while. It was, uh. Pretty cold. I don’t know how but I managed to find new friends. It was the strangest series of coincidences, but first I met Tary—Taryon Darrington—who generally lives in the Empire. Vox Machina was visiting him at the time, though, and they liked me enough (Percy and Vex especially) that they decided to just take me back with them. I was still remembering my last life in little bits and pieces, so I wasn’t really well enough to go live on my own or find you all.

“Then I. Moved into Whitestone. And that was that. I’m kind of an overpaid—or underpaid—babysitter, definitely a friend, and probably a project of Vox Machina in the kindest, friendliest way possible.”

Beau almost whistles, swapping it for a drawn out  _ damn _ after looking at Caleb.

“That’s a hell of a story,” she says, the easy, toothy smile on her face in juxtaposition with her faintly reddish eyes.

“Have you… remembered everything?” Fjord asks, honestly and understandably sounding a little worried.

“I think so— what the fuck happened to your  _ accent? _ ”

“Oh boy,” Fjord says as Beau starts laughing, the rest of the group catching the giggles in some form or another, “you sure have a lot to catch up on.”

“I don’t mind,” Mollymauk says, that crooked, happy grin Caleb remembers from so long ago creeping onto his face and showing off his pointed canines. “We can catch up together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always here, comments and kudos make my absolute day but are never required <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are, as always, appreciated but never required <3


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